


Going Down

by WingingIt2410



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Crash Landing, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Jason Todd is Dead, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, no beta we die like men, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-08-01 16:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16288076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingingIt2410/pseuds/WingingIt2410
Summary: The plane goes down somewhere over Siberia, and there's no way for Alfred to track them now. They're on their own: bleeding out and probably already dead from exposure, but (remarkably) still alive.Or/ Dick almost dies in a plane crash, and of course Bruce blames himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write some Brudick on here, and I've finally gotten around to it! This is my first fic on the site, so please keep that in mind. 
> 
>  
> 
> (I tried)

When the plane starts to go down, Dick realises that they're pretty fucked. It's not just the fact that they're currently over bum-fuck Siberia right now, but also because he's wearing  _spandex_ and is at the front of a plane that's about to nose-dive into a mountain. Bruce seemed to think the same thing, and just had enough time to throw himself over Dick before the whole world seemed to compact and go dark.

And when he wakes up, well, let's just say it's a relief not to be dead, but also  _ow_. He's definitely got some kind of concussion, because there's too much blood dripping from his head for it to be anything else. His vision is swimming and he feels nauseous like he's never felt before, but he's still alive. His ribs feel like they've been pulverised as well, and he's finding it difficult to breathe deeply, which also isn't promising.

He scans for Bruce because last he checked he was on top of him, and now he can't see him anywhere, and looks around just in time to see him stumble into view. He's holding the medkit under one of his arms and is favouring his left side pretty heavily, but he's still alive and Dick couldn't be more relieved.

"Dick...are you alright?" Dick almost wants to start laughing because honesty, but he settles with a pained huff. He's seen better days.

"Head and ribs..." He manages to croak, and Bruce doesn't look like he likes any of what he just said. "Can't breathe properly..." An arm wraps around his shoulders, the other one holds the medkit, and starts to nudge him into a standing position.

It makes the world spin and he briefly battles the overwhelming urge to gag, but he manages to stand after about a minute of coaxing. Bruce actually looks even paler, if it was possible.

"Come on, we need to get away from the plane."

Dick goes to ask ''what's wrong with the plane" before something beneath them groans and the plane starts to move. Right, they crashed into a mountain.

"You can do it, Dickie. Almost there..." They're really not, but in his state it's all he can do do not pass out, and he doesn't think that a cynical comment is going to improve their chances of survival, so he doesn't say anything. When they do eventually get clear, the plane is literally falling apart. They just about made it.

But now they're halfway up a mountain in a place where Alfred can't track them with nothing but a medkit, their suits, and a shit ton of blood loss. Dick looks across to check on Bruce, but the sudden head movement makes him woozy, and he can barely register Bruce's panicked yelling before he's out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wakes up alone, but there's a fire flickering next to him and bandages all over his torso and head. He's sure Bruce hasn't taken care of himself nearly as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support over night on the first chapter was amazing, so I'm posting the second one pretty quickly (don't get used to this, I'm a mess with little to no organisational skills).
> 
> I also went back through the first one and corrected some typos.

He wakes up alone, but there's a fire flickering next to him and bandages all over his torso and head. He's sure Bruce hasn't taken care of himself nearly as well, because he's not here. Any sane person would have stayed where it's warm and safe and patched themselves up, but he was probably afraid that Dick would say just that when he woke up. The Batman could be remarkably cowardly when it came to people asking him about the last time he'd slept.

Dick also notices that he's wrapped in the thermal blanket, and pulls it closer around him. It's freezing out here, and if he's cold under his blanket and next to the fire, he shudders to think how Bruce must be fairing.

Twigs snap and snow crunches somewhere beyond the tree line, and he takes a moment to appreciate the fact that he's in a cave and not down there, because the snow is ridiculously thick-

And then out comes Bruce, dripping with snow and still bleeding. If he had the strength, Dick would be furious. He's holding a canteen, and behind him is dragging a net. He's too far up to see what's exactly in it, but he can guess. Bruce was probably setting traps while he was unconscious.

It takes nearly half an hour for Bruce to haul himself and his catch up to the cave, and as time goes on Dick's anger fades into concern. "Dick..?" His voice echoes around the walls; he's probably hoping that he's still unconscious.

"Bruce-" his rant gets cut off when he struggles for breath, coughing and wheezing whilst clutching his side. Bruce rushes over and helps him up, checking his head and rib damage. By his expression, it's not good.

"Don't talk," he growls "focus on breathing." Dick doesn't nod, because he doesn't think he can without passing out again, and just points exasperatedly at Bruce's right side. Last time he saw him, he was balancing on one leg, and now he's hunting in the Siberian forest and scaling mountains. Bruce doesn't respond, he just grunts and looks away, busying himself with untangling his prey from the trap. Dick takes that as a solid "no" for self care. He's not impressed.

Unable to make actual sounds, Dick just whines and pats the ground infront of him. The motion jars his ribs and makes him wince, but he needs some comfort right now and Bruce looks five minutes away from death. Bruce has the decency to look him in the eye for a few seconds, expression decidedly guilty, and leaves the net alone for now.

He tentatively lays beside him, eyes already getting heavier. Dick smiles softly and reaches up a lone hand. Bruce takes it silently, squeezing gently and sharing the smile. "I'm sorry." He starts and Dick. Dick knows that tone. He whines again, more desperate this time because _no_ -

"This is all my fault. I shouldn't-" he pauses, and removes his hand from Dick's to cradle his forehead. He looks defeated, utterly defeated. He stands up again and Dick can feel the moment running away from them. He's back into Batman-mode now, and finishes removing a very dead weasel from the net, and starts preparing it.

Dick closes his eyes. He didn't realise how much he wanted Bruce to be close to him before he'd taken his hand, and now he was distancing himself from him again. Just like back home. He wanted, no, needed, Bruce to just tell him he meant something to him, that even if he'd left he was still loved-

He didn't even notice he was crying until Bruce glances back at him looking startled. "Dickie?" He sniffs in response. Bruce sighs and pulls him up against his chest, burying his head into his hair. Dick relaxes immediately into his hold, desperately missing the familiar feeling of being cuddled. 

"It's alright, Dickie. I've got you- I've got you..." For once, the cynical part of his brain falls silent. He allows himself to believe they'll be fine. They're still alive, and they've still got each other. He drifts off wrapped in Bruce's warm embrace, smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blood loss and cold starts to make his body shut down, but the feeling of a warm dinner helps marginally lift his spirits. Bruce looks pleased when he manages a weak smile in response to "how are you feeling?".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is really running away from me at this point, my muse just really wants me to write more angst and pile on the fluff.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left kudos thus far, it spurs me on knowing that people like what I'm writing.
> 
> The song used at the end: The Man On The Flying Trapeze is a song that Dick usually sings in the comics. I thought that DC made it up, but turns out it's a real thing! Go listen to it: https://youtu.be/fwvqMptS7UA

His sleep is surprisingly fitful all things considering, and Dick wakes up feeling pleasantly rested. For once, Bruce is actually sleeping too. He's still encased in his strong hold, body protected against the chill raging outside by his body heat. He nuzzles his head carefully against Bruce's chest, smile lazy. 

He stirs, and Dick curses himself for waking him up so thoughtlessly, but the look on Bruce's face extinguishes all pouting. He almost looks...scared.

He glances outside and strains his neck to peer at the sun. "We've been asleep for about three hours. I'll get started on getting us something to eat." He disengages his body from Dick's carefully, and walks over to the fire. He tends it for a while, and they sit in companionable silence.

Usually Dick would say something witty to lighten the mood, but now he can't. It's not awkward, though, and he almost starts drifting off again. He knows the blood loss and cold is making his body start to shut down, which is why sleep sounds so inviting right now, but he can barely keep his eyelids open regardless.

After an indistinguishable amount of time, he gets nudged by Bruce, who waves a freshly cooked weasel under his nose. The thought of eating makes him feel sick, but he knows he needs the energy. He takes it, smiling gratefully. Bruce just nods and sits beside him with his own catch.

After Dick's had enough of nibbling, and Bruce has eaten and changed both of his bandages, he looks at him with a blank expression and asks "how are you feeling?". With a little food in him, and the looming presence of death a little less immediate, he feels confident when he gives Bruce a weak smile and a thumbs up.

Bruce's lip twitches in what was almost a smile, and Dick realises that his side isn't bandaged. He points angrily at it. Bruce doesn't react. He points again, more desperate this time. "It's just bruised. I've already looked it over." Dick glares him down until his hesitantly lifts his suit enough for him to see the deep, blossoming bruises turning purple across his right side.

Bruce looks deeply uncomfortable as Dick's expression morphs from disappointed to horrified. He whines pathetically and gestures to the medkit. He wishes he could speak, because he looks and sounds distinctly like a toddler. Bruce's jaw clenches "I've already taken some painkillers, Dick. There's nothing more I can do about it."

He doesn't bring it up again. There's only so much emotion vague noises can convey, and he has too many right now. He wishes he could make Bruce understand that he's sorry for leaving, that Bruce didn't drag him into this, that this isn't his fault-

"Dick, I need you to try and stay awake." 

He hadn't even realised his eyes were almost closed, and that's not a good sign. He reaches out blindly for him, and finds the front of the Batsuit. He pulls him in closer by the emblem, and thankfully Bruce takes the hint. He sits him up back in their previous position, and holds him like he's something precious.

After a few seconds of sience, Bruce clears his throat. Expecting him to apologise again, Dick is legitimately surprised when he starts to  _sing._

_"He'd float through the air with the greatest of ease_

_This daring young man on the flying trapeze_

_His movements are graceful all girls he does please_

_And my love he has taken away."_

Dick almost starts to cry, because Bruce has never once joined in when he's sung that- part of him suspected that he hated the song and just put up with it- so hearing him growl it now, devistatingly familiar, makes him want to cram his face into his chest and sob. 

More than anything though, he desperately wants to join in. He settles with humming the tune as Bruce repeats the verse over and over again for what seems like hours, and the sun sets as the two of them hold each other close.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick wakes up alone, again, but this time he's got enough brain power to think. He over-thinks. He isn't prepared when Bruce comes back, so he panics. Bruce is there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for this, I told you I was a mess.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kudos! The response to this has been so nice!

Bruce- the utter bastard- is gone by the time Dick wakes up. He discovers this by expecting that when he leans back, there'll be a large, warm chest for him to snuggle into, but instead finds hard stone and a sore shoulder. He's startled by this, and the sound that leaves him when he jars his ribs isn't dignified in the slightest. He's almost happy Bruce  _isn't_ there, because squeeking like a scared puppy isn't something he really wants him to see.

There's no note, and for a minute he feels like a paranoid girlfriend. Of course he didn't leave a note, they're in  _Siberia_. On a  _mountain_. He hasn't got time to leave little notes saying:  _"sorry, just popped out to hunt some rabbits! Don't die while I'm gone! BRB!"_  

But still...Dick can't help but worry. The fire's almost dead beside him, which means that either Bruce's been gone a while or the weather's gotten worse. Each of these scenarios are bad. He decides not to think about it very long.

He resumes humming, the familiar tune bringing up memories of the- what? Night? Day? He doesn't even know how long it's been since the -before, Bruce holding him so nicely-

What did that mean, if anything? Dick has the sinking feeling that he was making something out of nothing. Bruce was his guardian, he probably saw him a son. Maybe not even that anymore.

Their relationship had taken a bad turn recently. Dick had left the Robin mantle behind (gotten fired) and moved out of the manor (kicked out), and had even gotten a new name for himself; Nightwing. This wasn't Batman and Nightwing's first team-up, but their communication still hadn't hadn't improved.

Yes, Batman could be a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, but don't cross Nightwing on a bad day. They hadn't spoken a word save from the briefing back at the cave since starting this mission, but the isolation and major concussion seemed to have split the ice. At least for now.

Dick let his eyes close. He wouldn't think about it too much.

\---

He startles awake at the sound of rock scaping. He jolts into a sitting position, making a choked cry of pain when his ribs protest, and stares with wide eyes at the cave entrance, his chest rising and falling in quick, sharp breaths. His throat hurts.

"Dick? What's wrong?" Bruce appears in the threshold, looking cold to the bone and deathly pale. His face is screwed in worry. 

"Can't-" he struggles for breath and begins to pant. What-

Bruce rushes over to him, keeping him upright and feeling his ribs. "Dick, I need you to focus on my voice."

He realises he's crying.

"You're having a panic attack. Deep breaths, Dickie, deep breaths. Breathe with me, ok? In. Out."

They breathe together for a while as the vice on his chest loosens gradually. Dick notices that Bruce had a hand stoking his back. It sends a full-body shiver down his spine, which Bruce mistakes for cold, and pulls the thermal blanket back up to his chest, laying him back down carefully.

"...sorry..." Bruce shushes him stroking back his hair.

"It's ok, Dick. Keep breathing."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is a total idiot emotionally, and tries to make up for almost dying with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I can't believe this took me almost a whole month. Have an extra long chapter as an apology. I've also decided on an 8 chapter story now, so hopefully I should be able to wrap this up soon. If you enjoy this so far, why not consider leaving some kudos? 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for being so patient. Here's the chapter!

After calming down, Dick realises that Bruce looks terrible. His face is roughly the same colour as the stone he's leaning back on, and he notes that he's shaking too (but whether that's from the cold or blood loss is anyone's guess). He refuses to look at him, instead leaning over to stoke the fire back to life with laser focus. Dick's face falls when Bruce turns his back to him in a poor attempt to hide his deteriorating condition. As if he could hide anything from Dick.

"B, come lie down." He's not asking at this point. He's not sure how long they've been out here for, but it has to be at least a few days. If Bruce has only rested intermittently like he suspects without even as much as a painkiller for his arm... Dick can't imagine how exhausted he must be. When he doesn't reply right away, he reaches out an unsteady hand and tries to drag him down instead. This only serves to jar his ribs, and in his state he's not nearly strong enough to make Bruce move physically. He hisses when his chest and head protests, but keeps pulling. Bruce looks away but allows himself to settle on his knees instead of standing, probably just to keep Dick from hurting himself. At least it's a mild improvement.

"Where have you been?" his voice is hoarse and it hurts to talk still, but he fears that if he doesn't say something Bruce'll just get back up again.

"Making a signal. I found a clearing and made an S.O.S with rocks so the blizzard won't blow it away." Bruce finally turns around when he says this, and he catches a strange look in his eyes, as if he's looking at something past him. He watches in silence as Bruce shakes his head slightly, but the dazed expression only gets worse.

"Bruce?" He prods him in the side hesitantly, voice wavering with concern. He doesn't even blink. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head again, face screwing up in frustration. He starts to lean heavily, and quickly pushes out a hand to steady himself. Dick immediately reaches up to catch him as he blacks out and collapses on top of him with a final pained grunt.

For a few seconds, he almost falls back into a panic attack. It's difficult to breathe while Bruce's considerable weight is pressing against his sore ribs, but he uses all of his remaining strength to roll him off and onto his back. He takes a minute to take in raspy breaths and get his strength back before getting up and rushing over to his side, ignoring his pounding headache and the way the whole cave is spinning is dizzying swirls. First, he checks his pulse (steady but weak), then he leans down to hear his chest (clear, but his breaths are small and shaky), before gingerly touching the splint around Bruce's arm. It's swollen and sore, irritated by all the traipsing and physical work he's been doing, but it's nothing he won't recover from in time. His diagnosis is exhaustion and probable hypothermia.

Working quickly, Dick removes his thermal blanket and wraps it tight around him before crawling over to the fire. He stokes the previously thought dead fire until he deems the flames large enough for a couple minutes, before steeling himself. He needs to get Bruce closer to the fire, but with his ribs in the state they are and the fact that he's in no way a light person, he knows it'll be painful. There's no alternative way he can think of to get him over there except for dragging him, so he grits his teeth and mentally buckles up.

\---  
It's hours later before Bruce stirs. He groans and calls out weakly for him, which is what wakes Dick up from his light doze. He's almost too weak to stand, all his energy has been used up and his ribs are in agony. His head pounds along to his heartbeat. But he knows he needs to pull himself together for Bruce.

"B? Are you awake?" he gets an unintelligible mumble in response. Sighing, he carefully drags himself over to where he's lay by the fire. "I need you to try and tell me about your symptoms." he murmurs, placing a hand over his forehead to test his temperature.

"What happened?" At first, his voice is so quiet he thinks he might have imagined it, but he sees Bruce open his eyes, wet his lips, and when he tries again he sounds much stronger.

"You collapsed," Dick says bluntly "I think you finally worked yourself into exhaustion, B." He tries to sound cold, but his tone betrays him and he comes off more tired, perhaps even betrayed. Bruce blinks at him and sets his jaw. Dick can see the guilt plain on his face, but he can't bring himself to feel sympathetic. "What did I tell you, Bruce? Why do you always try and push yourself so hard?" His voice sounds wet, and he has to bite his lip to keep himself from saying or doing anything he knows he'll regret. He removes his hand from Bruce's head, and tries to ignore how he subconsciously tries to press back against it as he does. He has to remind himself that the man’s desperately ill, and that he’s probably not thinking straight, before he starts to believe that he did that on purpose.

“How long has it been?” Bruce questions, scanning the cave restlessly but otherwise keeping still. Dick rolls his eyes. Of course that’s all he’s worried about. He’d be furious if he had the energy. 

“Less than a day. You really need to rest now, Bruce.” All he gets is a set of narrowed eyes as a reply. He scowls back.

“What’s your condition?” The change in subject doesn’t go unnoticed. Dick ramps up his glare in response, not saying anything other than the silent promise of a swift beat-down when they get home that he can tell Bruce picks up on. He remains unfazed, the bastard.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, B, carrying on like this. Why do you insist on coming so close to the edge every damn time?” Still no audible reply, but he can see how the edges of his facade are beginning to fray. For a second, a flash of guilt appears on his face before being washed away, and he returns his piercing stare with a defiant one of his own. He looks like a toddler caught drawing on the walls when Dick gracelessly falls back onto the balls of his feet, and clutches his knees close to his chest. He feels like a child himself, sitting in the fetal position about to cry. But at least Bruce looks suitably dejected. Serves him right, the bastard.

“Dick...” He pauses, not quite sure what to say. He’s never really known, has he? Bruce Wayne the playboy doesn’t even know how to comfort someone. His emotional constipation would have been hilarious in any other situation. But as it was...the fact that he couldn’t even defend himself in the usual “It was necessary” makes Dick think that he’s struck on something deeper. He can only think of two possible reasons he’s not being thrown every excuse in the book: Bruce is in worse shape than he thought, or he’s not doing all this for his usual logical reasons. An illogical Batman? That’s a horror movie. He’s in way over his head. He’s about to speak again when he hears rustling. He looks up just in time to see Bruce untangle himself from the thermal blanket, and before Dick can chew him out for it, his head is being pushed back and there’s a pair of lips on his own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a second, Dick can't breathe. He's frozen in time, and with Bruce's lips on his, he feels like he's drowning. The sensation is refreshing somehow; he thinks about his concussion for barely a second more before he's pressing back against him like a man starved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long, I didn't mean to torture you with a cliffhanger! This one's a little on the short side, but the next too will be much longer I promise.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

For a second, Dick can't breathe. He's frozen in time, and with Bruce's lips on his, he feels like he's drowning. The sensation is refreshing somehow; he thinks about his concussion for barely a second more before he's pressing back against him like a man starved.

The pain of his ribs and head feels distant, like he's having an out of body experience, but his lips and...erm, other places, are alight with feeling. Pleasant tingles that make him shiver from head to toe. He sighs happily, and leans against Bruce like he knows he can, and decides that there's nothing else he'd rather do than this. Even here, in a cave in the middle of nowhere where they might possibly die.

Bruce makes a strange grunt noise, possibly out of surprise that Dick's not shoving him away despite the quite obvious signals he hopes he's been sending, but then carefully places a hand in his hair to drag him further into the kiss. It's a nice gesture. He likes the reassuring pressure at the back of his head that drives him closer still to a man he used to want to be as far as possible from.

The memories of the anger, the hate of being thrown out and replaced, the pain of losing Jason-

None of it matters. Not now.

Part of him is sure it'll all catch up to them as it usually does, that this is just the calm before the storm, and that letting himself get attached in this way will just make the fallout worse than it always is, but this time... something feels inherently different.

Most of the residual anger was his fear that Bruce hated him being displayed in poor ways. He'd throw something at his head in the cave after being treated like a child even though he was  _an adult now, Bruce! You don't get to treat me like this anymore! I'm not your goddamn Robin!_ when all he really wanted to do was hug him and beg for him to visit more often, or open up to him for once.

When the kiss breaks, they both have tears in their eyes and are trying very,  _very_ hard not to show it. But then Dick laughs, high and relieved, and the dam bursts like it was never there.

"You're-" Dick pauses and wipes at his eyes, still laughing and smiling like an idiot.

Bruce cups his face softly, silent tears slowly falling down his cheeks. It's the most vulnerable he's ever seen him. He fixes him with a solemn stare, and says "Dick, I love you." And then Dick loses it.

Bruce looks slightly perturbed and concerned as he laughs hysterically, clutching at his ribs because as stupid as this moment is, and as high as he feels, they really don't appreciate being jostled this much.

"I'm being serious, Dick."

"I know, I know- but-" he can't stop it at this point. He slaps Bruce on the shoulder, the other hand coming up to cover his mouth as he tries to scrape back his composure.

Finally, when he can breathe again, he gives Bruce the dopiest smile he can, broad and entirely too pleased, and says "And I love you too."

Nothing could make this moment better, he decides, when Bruce's eyes soften and he brings him back into another kiss.

Well, in hindsight, the loud drone of an approaching plane definitely made the moment better in a lot of ways.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred gives them both a haunted look, like-
> 
> Yeah. He looks like he expected never to see them again.
> 
> He doesn't think twice before crushing him into a fierce hug, shaking voice mumbling "It's ok, Alfie. We're here." 
> 
> He's not completely sure who he's trying to convince anymore, but it works for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter! All that's left now is the epilogue!
> 
> Thank you for everyone who's supported me by leaving such nice comments and left kudos thus far; this never would have been as fun without you.

Bruce surges back, eyes wide. Dick pouts, not hearing it, and is about to object before he's interrupted with a rushed "Alfred saw the signal." And then they're both scrambling out of the cave.

Dick hasn't been outside in days, and the sudden biting cold knocks the air out of him. When he sees Bruce looking at him in poorly concealed concern, he just waves a hand to dismiss him. He's not giving up now, after all they've been through, over a little cold. His partner doesn't handle it much better regardless, trying to hide how badly he's shivering with little success. They're both in bad shape.

The dark silhouette of the plane circles over head for a few brief, glorious seconds, and Dick allows himself to close his eyes and sigh in relief. Then, he follows Bruce down the mountain.

"The clearing where I laid the signal; it should be large enough for the plane to land." He says, helping Dick down from a ledge as they descend. "It's less than a ten minute hike from the base of the mountain."

He nods calculating the time in his head. By the pace they're going, and by how low the sun is getting with each passing minute, it could take an hour to get to the plane. Maybe more.

Suddenly a thought occurs to him. "Aren't there wolves in this region?"

Bruce pauses. "Grey wolves, yes. I've encountered a few. They're usually non aggressive, I haven't had any trouble."

Dick decides to leave his comments for later when they're both in the right shape for an argument, and settles for giving him a completely indignant stare.

"...sorry."

He just rolls his eyes and they carry on in silence.

It's a painful, slow climb. Bruce's side and arm are obviously causing him discomfort, and his chest feels like it's on fire. The woods below spin uncontrollably. He's in nothing but his leggings and boots, with the thermal blanket draped around his shoulders to try and stop hypothermia from setting in. Bruce's costume is ripped and shredded, and his cape disappeared days ago, but it's enough. The wind bites and howls snow at them, the remnants of the blizzard, but it's manageable.

They'll be fine.

Finally, after almost an hour, they make it to the base of the mountain. Now all that's between them and home is the woods. And what's in them.

With an arm on Bruce's shoulder for support, he limps with him through calf deep snow, struggling to take every step. Grunts and pained hisses can barely be heard against the wind that whistles through the pine trees that rise to tower above them, blocking out the sky and the mountains behind them.

At first, Dick thinks it's just the concussion making him paranoid. But gradually, as shapes flit across his peripheral vision in increasing regularity, he taps Bruce's shoulder and they stop. "Did you see that?"

"No-"

Like they're in some kind of horror movie (flashes of watching The Shining with Jason come to mind, and he has to bat them away before he says something he'll regret) branches snap behind them and they snap round. 

Only to come face to face with a pack of wolves.

"No trouble with wolves, huh?" He nervously quips, standing very still and trying not to breathe as heavily as he needs to. Bruce doesn't respond, too busy pulling Dick behind him and backing them up. They go slow, the wolves padding to keep up with them and spreading out to flank them from the sides. The alpha is only a couple metres away, barring large, yellow teeth and growling. The rest don't look too friendly either.

He gulps, but doesn't let his resolve break down. If a fight starts now, the wolves will pounce on them from every angle. They're fast and nimble, not weighed down by the cold or any injuries. It would be a pathetically easy fight to lose. So they back up.

Bruce keeps his posture low and unthreatening. If the wolves are hungry, that won't matter, but it's always better safe than sorry. They're back to back, all eyes on the pack as they flit between trees to surround them. The tension builds as adrenaline thrums in his veins; he knows that they won't get out of this without a fight, but maybe they could make it to the plane? He has no idea where Bruce's clearing is or how far they are from it, but if they could get to it in time to avoid being torn apart by rapid animals, the lights and noise of the plane would definitely be enough to scare them off-

No time left to think, as the alpha barks and something leaps at them from the left. Bruce kicks out just in time to stop the wolf from biting Dick's leg off, and it whimpers and retreats. Another stalks in and this time it's Dick who catches it by the throat before it can tear his out. The wolves seem to have picked up that he's the more vulnerable prey. Brilliant.

He can see movement from every side now, all the wolves coordinating to strike. They bare their fangs, their heckles rising and faces twisting grotesquely in aggression. Then-

A blast of light and sound, one that they both recognise. The wolves however, whimper and flee; any particular brave wolf is scared off by the second blast, and so the crisis is officially averted.

"Master Bruce? Master Dick? Is that you?"

Dick honestly cries at just the sound of his voice. It's Alfred; albeit wielding a shotgun and looking particularly pale, but still Alfred.

He gives them both a haunted look, like-

Yeah. He looks like he expected never to see them again. Not alive, anyway. 

He doesn't think twice before crushing him into a fierce hug, shaking voice mumbling "It's ok, Alfie. We're here." 

He's not completely sure who he's trying to convince anymore, but it works for both of them.

He drops the shotgun heavily, and wraps his arms around him to give back just as intensely. When they let go, he immediately looks to Bruce with the most heartfelt smile on his face, which quickly turns to determination. "Come, sirs, you need immediate medical attention."

And just like that, the three of them are homebound.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end! Thank you to everyone who left kudos, and all your lovely comments. It's really the feedback that keeps a fic going, and I'm so glad you guys liked this!
> 
> Anyway, to the last chapter!

As soon as they arrived back at the cave, Alfred swept them into the med-bay and with the help of Leslie managed to set his ribs and Bruce's arm. They prescribed rest and handfuls of painkillers whilst their bodies did the rest for them, which on Bruce's part was easier said than done.

He spent hours pacing or watching over the computer in the cave, helping Alfred identify the cause of the crash as well as irritating the living Hell out of him.

"Master Bruce, if you don't get back into bed this second I'll bolt you to it!"

Regardless, they were healing. It was painful and time consuming, but they were bouncing back piece by piece. 

Dick's concussion had been the main topic of alarm from their careers, with Leslie being concerned of potential memory loss or sight problems. Thankfully he didn't need glasses, but that didn't stop Bruce from following him around like he was about to collapse whenever Alfred kicked him out of the cave. 

"I'm fine, Bruce!"

"Leslie told me to keep an eye on you. Your balance is questionable still, you could fall-"

And so on. The general consensus in the house was that Bruce was paranoid, and didn't want to be caught off guard again like in Siberia. This meant he prowled the hallways at night instead of sleeping, at high alert every second of the day and so wired that he jumped at every noise. To say they were worried about him would be a gross understatement.

At least they were still talking. Bruce seemed convinced that at any moment Dick was going to slap him and leave, and so spent his time either possessively hugging him tight, or avoiding him altogether.

One night, he decided that enough was enough. He was dressed for bed, but he wasn't sleeping in his room.

"Bruce?" He knocked on the master suites door and waited.

"Come in, Dick."

Rolling his eyes at the gruff reply, he slipped through and closed the door quietly behind him.

"What's wrong?" 

"Does something have to be wrong for me to see you?"

Bruce glanced at the clock. "At this time?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Who said I was here for business?"

That for him a strange look, but he didn't care. He sauntered over to where his partner was sat awkwardly on the side of his massive bed, hair ruffled and looking a general mess. He hadn't even gotten out of his work clothes.

"When was the last time you slept?" Before he could get a reply he added "And no, passing out doesn't count. I mean the last time you lay down, got comfy, closed your eyes-"

"Dick."

He sighed in exasperation and out a hand over his temple, rubbing in irritation to will away his sudden headache. "Work with me here, Bruce. I know you hate being blindsided, but you can't keep this up much longer." His voice sounded wet. "Do you not remember what I said in that cave? About pushing yourself too far?"

"I remember."

Snapping his head up to glare at him, he snarled. "Then why do you keep doing this? Every time..." He trailed off, tears falling. He felt tired down to his very core.

"Come lie down, Dick."

He didn't have the strength to argue, and so just threw himself down beside Bruce like he was a child. 

There was silence, except for his huffing and sniffles. Then Bruce muttered "I don't want to lose you."

"What?"

"I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you, Dick. Siberia was a disaster that should never have happened. You almost died, and-"

He cut him off by surging up and kissing him hard. Pulling away, he cradled his jaw and whispered "But I didn't. And you could never have seen that coming, Bruce. No one could have."

"I don't deserve you."

Smiling like a dope, he said "No. You don't. But I'm here anyway. Now go to sleep before I tell Alfred."

Nodding in defeat, he quickly changed and climbed carefully into bed beside Dick, who immediately cuddled against his side and pulled the covers over them.

Large hands wrapped around him and tugged him closer so that he was sprawled over his chest, and he grinned down at him from under dark lashes. "And I thought you didn't like to cuddle." He chided, ducking his head under Bruce's jaw to nuzzle at his neck.

He could feel the deep grumble of laughter against his chest, and a pair of lips moved next to his ear to growl "I've developed a fondness for it."

Alfred found them like that the next morning, and he smiled before softly closing the door behind him, leaving them to sleep.


End file.
